


The Baby and the Basket

by mistrali



Series: Harry Potter, Canon Divergences [1]
Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 15:55:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19397419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistrali/pseuds/mistrali
Summary: “You think he might be normal.”





	The Baby and the Basket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You think he might be normal.”

The letter was on parchment and written in midnight-blue cursive. It was also addressed to _Petunia Dursley, Little Whinging, Surrey._

“VERNON! Vernon, come quickly!” She held the letter out with shaking hands - the letter, and the boy. They’d left the baby fast asleep in a basket, for God’s sake, like some unearthly gift hamper. It was a miracle he hadn’t caught his death.

She whisked the child inside, slammed the door and locked it. For good measure, she bolted it too. Not that that would help with the wizards, but at least no neighbours would come along and stick their noses into things (as Petunia was a great one for eavesdropping, she assumed that the neighbours shared her penchant for it).

She held the letter by the tips of her fingers, as though it might explode. Then with one glance at Harry, she squeezed her eyes shut and tore it open.

 _My dearest Petunia_ , began the unknown author, and she bristled at the familiarity, the presumption. She wasn’t their dear anything!

_I regret to inform you that Lily and James Potter, of Godric’s Hollow, died on Tuesday night. They were killed in action, while fighting the Dark Wizard who styles himself Lord Voldemort..._

She read, in increasing disbelief, about blood protection and rites. Apparently Harry had killed the leader of one of their terrorist groups. She shivered. So their lot had mass murderers too, and genocide and all the other nasty things Lily and that awful Snape boy had talked about. Fat lot of good all that magic had done them, she thought, feeling as if the bitterness and fury would rise up into her throat and choke her.

_I entrust Harry James Potter, your nephew, into your care. Quite apart from the blood protection, it was felt that young Harry would benefit from a normal Muggle upbringing with other children his own age, rather than being pampered like a celebrity, as he undoubtedly will be in our world._

_At present, Harry is meeting all physical and mental milestones, but his magical development is uncertain. While he is showing some signs of magical ability, they are weaker than expected for his age. This would be a further concern were he to be raised in the magical world, as people would naturally be disappointed if he were not as powerful as anticipated._

_Should he develop sufficient magic as he grows older, he will be most welcome at Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, Durmstrang or any other magical institution. Students usually attend Hogwarts after their eleventh birthday. Should you be in need of assistance, you are welcome to contact me by owl post. My condolences on your loss. I remain_

_Yours sincerely,  
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore (Ord. Mer.), Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Supreme Mugwump, Wizengamot Juror._

She shut her eyes and sat down hard on the lounge. How could Lily be dead? She’d been alive not three days ago. She’d always write letters with those peculiar video-like photographs enclosed. Always of that Potter and, recently, Harry zooming around on a toy broomstick, Harry cooing, Harry babbling, Harry looking wide-eyed at the camera. It had made Petunia’s blood boil. 

Little shudders coursed through Petunia - the creeping terror of magic, which she thought she’d left behind, was coming back in triplicate, signed and sealed. She felt another surge of unreasoning jealousy.

“Petunia?” asked Vernon. He came to sit down beside her, took the letter from her unresisting hands and began to read it.

His face darkened with rage. “What is all this claptrap? We ought to ring child services.”

“We can’t just ring child services,” hissed Petunia. “Not for him.”

“Why the ruddy hell not? He’s their problem, isn’t he?”

It was tempting - God, was it tempting, to just let the NSPCC deal with it. They probably got freak kids all the time.

“We’ll ring their lot in the morning,” he insisted, and folded the letter back up with a muttered curse. “They’ll sort it all out, Pet. Surely he’s got grandparents on Potter’s side.” 

“They use owls,” she said, in a daze. “Not telephones.”

Vernon actually ran a hand across her forehead. “Petunia, dear, be sensible. How can this Dumblebore not have a telephone number? Look, if we tell them his name, they’ll know who he is. If he really is famous in their world, they’ll get someone out here to take him away.”

“You don’t understand. The letter said his magic was weaker than... than expected.”

“You think he might be.... normal,” growled Vernon.

She burst into tears, and hated herself for it. “I can’t help it, Vernon! We’ve been trying for a whole year. I j- just want to be a mother. She went and did that first, as well.”

Vernon kissed her, murmured soothing things about cocoa, and led her back to bed.


End file.
